


Moonbeam

by shrewtz



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Slow Dancing, just pretend george doesnt live with his mom okay, like very light, theyre so soft :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29145039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shrewtz/pseuds/shrewtz
Summary: It’s dangerously late at night— George is scared he might say something he regrets while he’s under the safe cover of the moon and the stars and all he can hear is the low drawl of Dream’s voice, the way his accent curls around his words, George’s name.It’s at times like these that George can’t help but wonder about who’s on the other side of the call. It’s so private like this, just the two of them, and George just wants to see, wants to 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸.(Or: George just wants to see his best friend's face.)
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 264





	Moonbeam

**Author's Note:**

> My first time writing this pairing :) I just love their dynamic so much. Enjoy <3

“Stop! Sapnap, oh my god!” George screams, frantically clicking his mouse to try and knock Sapnap’s character back. 

It was supposed to be a late night, _chill_ stream— George just wanted to do some more work on his house on the SMP. But now Sapnap is laughing maniacally as he swims through George’s pond, trying to swing at his fish. 

“Okay, okay,” Sapnap says through his laughter, “I’ll stop.” 

“Good, now get out.” George hits Sapnap’s character towards the edge of the pond, watching him hop out and onto the grass. 

“It was just a joke George, there was no need to scream.”

“Yeah, yeah,” George huffs. “Well my fish is nothing to joke about.”

That sends Sapnap into another fit of giggles, and George shakes his head, smiling. He can hear Dream laughing quietly, too. Dream isn’t on the server tonight, just in their Discord call, listening and occasionally weighing in on George’s interior design dilemmas. He seems tired even though it’s only 10 pm in Florida, George can tell by his voice. Chat seemed to have noticed it too— they wouldn’t stop talking about his ‘cute sleepy voice’ when he first joined the call. George had laughed it off, but although he’d never admit it, he gets it. 

A donation comes through just then, the text to speech voice reading it out, “Hi Gogy! I was wondering if Dream has shown you his face since that stream where he trolled you.”

“Thank you for the dono, Mary!” George shifts uncomfortably. “Um, I don’t know, do you wanna answer that one Dream?”

“Answer what?” Dream sounds distracted. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening.”

George rolls his eyes. “They’re asking if you’ve shown me your face yet.”

“Oh,” Dream sighs and George just knows he’s about to give some witty explanation. If George is being honest, he’s almost as clueless as the fans as to why Dream hasn’t revealed his face to him yet. 

When Dream speaks he still sounds tired, but he takes on a mischievous tone that has George a bit nervous. “Chat, we all know George wouldn’t be able to handle seeing my face.”

George raises an eyebrow, losing focus on the game. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

“You’d nut on the spot.”

George lets out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a choke. He splutters and has to lean out of frame to cough while Dream and Sapnap laugh wildly in his headset. George hasn’t become fully accustomed to Dream’s more lewd jokes as of late, and he can’t help how flushed his face is as he leans back into frame. He rolls his eyes again and goes back to placing blocks in game, hoping no one notices the rosy tint of his cheeks. 

“You’re not denying it, George,” Dream says when he finally comes down from his laughing fit. His voice is lower now, teasing. 

“You’re such an idiot,” George says quietly, only out of instinct, really. 

“I’ve seen Dream’s face!” Sapnap pipes up. “I can confirm it’s nut worthy.”

George doesn’t comment, just shakes his head and busies himself with crafting the rest of the items he needs. _Sapnap can joke about it, why can’t I?_

“You’re blushing ‘cause you know it’s true, George.” And fuck if that doesn’t make George blush even more. 

George pretends to look disturbed, furrowing his eyebrows. “Stop watching my stream you stalker.”

“Oh come on now, I know you love when I watch you.”

George scoffs, Sapnap giggles, and they move on. Dream asks Sapnap about the new mob farm they’re making, allowing Sapnap to do the talking for a bit and George to come down from his embarrassment. His heart is pounding from Dream’s last comment— it’s ridiculous considering there are thousands of people watching him, but he feels almost self conscious knowing Dream is one of them. 

George is grateful Dream didn’t push it further even though he so easily could. There’s a certain limit of teasing they’ve silently agreed to keep within bounds of, but Dream has been testing it lately. He’s walking a fine line and George knows that one day he’s going to cross it and fall headfirst into a dark pit, dragging George along with him. George just hopes he’s not streaming that day. 

* * *

That day happens to be two days later. 

George isn’t streaming, thankfully, just sitting in bed, earbuds in. He and Dream are alone on call together, Sapnap and Bad having left to go to bed a while ago. It’s dangerously late at night— George is scared he might say something he regrets while he’s under the safe cover of the moon and the stars and all he can hear is the low drawl of Dream’s voice, the way his accent curls around his words, George’s name. 

It’s at times like these that George can’t help but wonder about who’s on the other side of the call. It’s so private like this, just the two of them, and George just wants to see, wants to _know_. He wonders how Dream would look when he laughs, when George says something that makes him giggle through his exhaustion. He wonders how Dream would look as he teases George with another flirtatious joke. He wonders how much taller Dream would look compared to him, how much broader. He knows Dream’s shoulders are wider than his own, muscles more defined. He tries not to wonder how much bigger Dream’s hands are than his, how well they could fit against his own, or atop his waist, around his throat—

“George? You still awake?” Dream interrupts his train of thought, which is maybe for the better. 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, I’m just zoning out.” George replies. 

“It’s okay, I know it’s late.”

Silence stretches between them. It’s not awkward, the security of the night makes everything seem comfortable, safe. Or maybe it’s just Dream that makes him feel that way. 

Still, George naturally wants to say something, keep the conversation going so Dream won’t decide he’s bored and leave the call. His lips are moving before he can stop them.

“I wish I could see you right now.”

He hears Dream sigh on the other end of the call. “George...”

“Why can’t I?”

Dream audibly swallows. “You know why, George.”

“I don’t.”

“It’s just... a lot. It’s so personal to me.” Dream’s voice is quiet, reserved. “Like, it takes a lot of trust, I guess.”

George is in too deep. He should stop before Dream gets mad. He should do a lot of things.

“You don’t trust me?”

“Fuck, that’s not what I mean.”

George sits up further in bed, grips his duvet unconsciously. “You’ve shown Sapnap, why not me?”

Static buzzes between them, tense and uncomfortable unlike moments earlier. 

“It’s different... _y_ _ou’re_ different.”

George’s heart is racing. What the hell is that supposed to mean? He presses forward.

“Why?”

Dream makes a noise of discomfort. “Why do you care so much anyway?”

George huffs. “Stop avoiding the question.”

“I bet you just want a picture of me to jerk off to,” Dream snaps suddenly. There’s fire in his voice, defensive and hot. 

George blushes violently and drops his phone. They’re not even streaming right now, Dream is _mad_. George’s blankets are too warm, even his loose t-shirt is making him overheat, making his head spin. It’s in this moment that George feels himself fall, darkness surrounding him on all sides. 

“What the hell is wrong with you, Dream?” He tries to sound angry, probably just sounds embarrassed. 

“I just—“ Dream stops himself, and George hears him take a few heavy breaths. “I’m sorry.”

“Is it so wrong to want to know what my best friend looks like?” George asks, softer now. He doesn’t want to upset Dream, truly. 

Dream is quiet. George can only hear his own heartbeat thrumming in his ears. 

“Please, Clay.”

There’s a long silence. George holds his breath. 

“I should get to bed. Goodnight, George.”

Dream disconnects and George stares at the wall. 

_Fuck_. 

* * *

George doesn’t talk to Dream for the next 24 hours. 

It’s only a day but it feels so unnatural when George usually talks to him for several hours a day. They always at least text if one of them is too busy, but George doesn’t even wake up to a flirty morning text like usual. 

Maybe it’s a bit of an overreaction, but George spends most of the day moping around. He tries to edit his new video, but he can’t stand to hear Dream’s voice on the recording. George feels guilty already for making Dream upset, but it’s unbearably shameful to listen to his teasing voice through his headphones, to replay it over and over like he wants to. 

When the evening comes around and Dream still hasn’t contacted him, George calls Bad. He considers adding Sapnap to the call, but there’s no telling if he would take George’s predicament seriously or not, and he’s not even online anyway. 

Bad picks up on the second ring. 

“Hi George,” he greets cheerfully. 

“Hey Bad,” George replies, not so cheerfully. 

He has a loose script in his head of what he wants to ask Bad. He wants advice on how to get Dream to stop being mad at him, but he wants to be just vague enough that Bad doesn’t know who he’s talking about or how he got himself into this situation. 

Said script is thrown out the window when Bad says, “Oh, are you and Dream still fighting?”

George is taken aback. “What? How did you know?”

“Neither of you have been on Discord or the SMP all day.”

George sighs, of course Bad knows. He’s not overly worried though, he knows he wouldn’t judge him about this kind of thing. 

“I messed up Bad, I think he’s really mad at me.”

Bad hums. “I’m on the server right now, gimme a minute to go to the XP grinder so I can talk to you properly.”

“Okay.” George sits and waits, listening to Bad hum a song quietly as he presumably sprints to the spider farm in game. It’s... comforting in a way— George always feels safe when he’s on call with Bad. 

“First of all,” Bad says after a few moments, “I doubt Dream is actually mad at you.”

George is about to protest but Bad continues, “I don’t know what happened with you two, but I don’t think Dream could ever be angry at you. He’s probably just... annoyed.”

George chooses not to dwell on what that means. 

“Anyway,” Bad says, “tell me what happened.”

George takes a few seconds to gather his thoughts before answering, “I was asking him about his face, like why he hasn’t shown me yet.” 

Bad hums, letting George know he’s listening before he continues. 

“I know it’s bad of me but I think I pushed him too far, he sounded pretty upset,” he admits. “I’m just getting so frustrated, aren’t you, Bad?”

A beat passes and George holds his breath. Maybe he’s being irrational, maybe Bad is about to tell him how horrible of a friend he is. 

“I mean yeah, I guess it is frustrating to not know what your best friend looks like.”

There’s that word again: _best friend_. George doesn’t know why, but it rubs him the wrong way. He wishes there was another word to describe Dream, something _more_. Dream makes him _feel_ so much more. But then again, how could that be when George doesn’t even know what he looks like?

“But,” Bad says, “we can’t force him, you know we can’t George. He has to do it on his own time.”

George sighs heavily. “I know that.”

“Of course you do.” George can hear the smile in Bad’s voice. “You’re a good muffin.”

George laughs, glad that Bad is lightening the mood a little. 

“But for now, you should call him. Just be honest and say you’re sorry.”

George almost groans at the idea of having to call Dream, but he knows Bad is right.

“You’re right Bad, I’ll call him in the morning.”

“Alright, let me know if I can do anything else.”

“Thank you Bad, seriously. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Aww,” Bad coos, “I love you too George.”

* * *

George doesn’t call Dream in the morning, because he doesn’t wake up until noon. He had ended up staying up late scrolling through Twitter, playing CSGO, but mostly thinking about what he’s going to say to Dream. Bad’s advice definitely made him feel a lot better, but he was still anxious about calling Dream. 

When George finally does wake up, he surprisingly doesn’t feel awful. He’s groggy of course, but he doesn’t immediately feel anxious the way he did the night prior. He forces himself out of bed and into the bathroom. 

Once George has brushed his teeth and thrown on a lazy outfit, he checks the time. If he had woken up at a reasonable time, Dream might have still been awake for George to call him, but it’s only 7:30 in Florida and Dream is almost certainly still asleep. George instead promises himself that he’ll call in a few hours, even sets an alarm on his phone so he won’t forget. 

After an hour, George’s phone rings. He’s editing stream highlights from the other day, although his progress is slowed by his involuntary need to keep replaying Dream’s flirtatious quips, then get secondhand embarrassment for his past self. 

George sighs and takes his headphones off, fishing his phone out of his pocket. He has no idea who would be calling his _phone_ without warning— his mom maybe? Or a telemarketer? In fact, he’s pretty sure he set his phone to do not disturb before he started working, so he’s not sure why the call is even going through. George looks down at the incoming call screen and— _oh_ , that’s why. 

The word _Dream_ reads bright across the top of the screen. 

George groans. He thought he still had an hour to gather his thoughts but suddenly he has only seconds— if he doesn’t pick up he’ll seem like even more of an asshole than before. Reluctantly, George presses accept and raises the phone to his ear.

“Dream?”

“Hey George.” Dream’s voice sounds a bit hushed, and George can hear voices in the background. “I’m uh, I’m at the airport right now.”

George sits up, confused. Surely Dream would have told him if he was going to be flying somewhere. “You’re— What?” 

“I’m flying to South Hampton.”

“ _What?_ ” 

“For my cousin’s wedding. My flight leaves in twenty minutes.”

George’s heart is racing, he’s never even been in the same country as Dream before. He thinks maybe he should be angry at Dream for not telling him but his fluttering heart doesn’t let him. 

“And you didn’t think to tell me until now?” George says through the grin creeping onto his face. 

“I know George, I’m sorry.” Dream doesn’t sound nearly as giddy. 

“It’s okay,” George sighs and doesn’t think about what he says next, just lets the words tumble out. “If it’s because of the other day, I’m really sorry. I was being selfish, and I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.”

George hears Dream let out a long exhale, hears a voice muffled through the airport speaker system before Dream responds, “It’s not your fault, George. And I wasn’t angry at you, if that’s what you thought.”

Dream doesn’t elaborate and George doesn’t ask. Instead, George asks quietly, “You are gonna come to London, aren’t you?”

Dream sighs heavily. “George, you know I want to.”

A sinking feeling settles in George’s stomach. “Dream?”

“But I’m only gonna be in the country for two days.”

“Th-that’s okay, you can come up tonight, you can stay over at my house. Or I’ll come down there for a day.” George pleads. He doesn’t think he could handle knowing Dream is in the same country as him and not seeing him. 

“It’s not just that George.” Dream’s voice is even quieter now, like he’s embarrassed. “I don’t know if I want you to, you know, see me.”

Right, that whole... issue. Still, it would be the biggest regret of George’s life if he didn’t see his best friend while he was just a train ride away instead of across an ocean. 

“We’ll work around it,” George pleads, voice verging on desperate. “You can wear a mask. I’ll wear a blindfold.”

“George...”

“Please, Dream. Don’t you trust me?”

“I do,” Dream says, without hesitation this time. 

“I’ll figure something out. Call me as soon as you land.”

“Okay, George.”

“Okay, Dream.”

“They’re boarding now, I have to go.”

George swallows thickly. “Okay. I— I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah, see you soon.”

When Dream hangs up, George lets the phone drop from his hand, lets himself lean back, lets himself cry from relief. Dream’s flight will probably land around midnight UK time, meaning George has ten hours to come up with a plan. But for now, George allows himself a moment of golden excitement because _he’s going to meet Dream_.

* * *

By the time George’s phone pings with a text notification, it’s 2 am and he’s practically bitten his nails down to the bone. He’s sitting in his living room, one dimmed light on above him, scrolling through Twitter to pass the time. He can’t help but keep glancing up at the front door, can’t help but imagine who will be coming through it soon. 

Dream

_ I’m here _

George taps the notification immediately, anxiety stirring up again in his stomach because _Dream’s here_ , presumably standing right outside the door. He gets up to flick the last light off and take a deep breath. It’s almost pitch black now, drawn curtains blocking out any light from the street lamps, but George has paced through this room enough times to be confident in his ability to not bump into walls. George texts back,

_ It’s open _

He turns his back to the door when he hears the doorknob turning, just in case any light from outside illuminates Dream’s face. As the door creaks open, George can almost physically feel the nervousness in his stomach— it’s more than butterflies, it feels like birds rapidly flapping their wings, struggling to be contained. 

He hears Dream step inside, hears him dragging in what must be his suitcase. When he hears the door click shut, George turns back in the direction of the front door. For a few seconds, neither of them say anything. It’s strange, being in complete darkness yet knowing he’s in the presence of his best friend at long last. George remembers then that Dream has just entered a pitch black house in a foreign country in the middle of the night and that he should probably say something. Dream beats him to it. 

“George?”

George’s breath catches. It’s Dream in the way George knows him best, his voice. He sounds different in real life, more _real_ George supposes. 

" _Dream_.”

George rushes forward to where he knows Dream must be standing. He crashes into Dream who only stumbles a bit, and wraps his arms around his torso. Dream hugs George back, tight, George’s face pressed against his chest. Dream is laughing, George might be crying. 

They stay like that for a few minutes, Dream running his hands up and down George’s back, George quietly sniffling, muffled by the material of Dream’s hoodie. Dream’s body is cold from the night air but his embrace feels warm and comforting.

Eventually George lets go, steps back and wipes his eyes with his sleeve. 

“Hi,” Dream says. 

“This is real, isn’t it?” George asks because it certainly doesn’t feel real. It’s so surreal to hear Dream in the same room as him, to finally feel him so close yet not be able to see him. 

Dream wheezes out a small laugh. “Yes George, I’m real.”

George just breathes for a moment, tries to convince himself that Dream is telling the truth, that George isn’t dreaming. He’s not though, because no dreamt up scenario could ever capture the way Dream’s arms felt wrapped around him, the way he fit so perfectly against his body. 

“This was your solution, huh?” Dream interrupts his thoughts. “Make it so dark that you can’t even see me?”

“What, you don’t think it’s clever?” George says, still a little breathless. 

“It’s creative, I’ll give you that.” And although George can’t see it, he can hear the smile in Dream’s voice. “But what are we gonna, like, do?”

“Oh!” George comes back to himself, remembering his plan. “I had an idea, uh—”

He reaches for Dream’s wrist, ends up grabbing the front of his hoodie, and pulls him into the living room. 

“Just wait.”

George then turns his back to Dream, making sure he can’t see Dream’s face as he takes his phone out. He opens Spotify and presses play on the playlist he found: _Classical Romance_. The name is a bit embarrassing, but so is this whole idea, really. George returns his phone to his back pocket, volume just loud enough for them to hear, and turns back to Dream. 

“I thought we could, like...” George starts and immediately cringes at what he’s about to say. Dream is almost certainly going to make fun of him but the plan is already in motion and he can’t stop now, “slow dance?”

Dream laughs, all wheezy and breathy. “What?”

George feels his ears burn. “Fuck, it’s stupid, isn’t it? Sorry.”

“No, no,” Dream says, coming down from his laughter. “It’s a good idea, George. Let’s slow dance.”

Dream finds George’s shoulders in the dark, trails his hands down until he reaches the subtle curve of George’s waist, and pulls him in. 

“I was just... surprised.” Dream breathes. 

George is taken aback by Dream’s eagerness, the way he reached for George so unhesitatingly. Dream is bold, George thinks, he takes what he wants so confidently. He’s everything George isn’t. 

George tentatively snakes his arms up (quite far up, Dream is _tall_ ) to rest his hands on Dream’s shoulders. He’s hyperaware of Dream’s hands on his waist, of how close they are right now, practically breathing the same air. When George tilts his head up he can just barely make out the outline of Dream’s face in the dark. 

“Surprised?” George repeats. 

“Surprised at how romantic you are, George.”

George is grateful that Dream can’t see how violently he blushes at that. “Shut up.”

Dream snickers. George rolls his eyes even though Dream can’t see him. 

“We can’t really move much, we might bump into something,” George says, wanting to change the subject. 

Dream hums. “That’s okay.” His voice is more hushed now, more raspy, as if Dream knew it would make George’s heart rate kick up. 

The two of them just sway together slowly, languidly. It feels kind of ridiculous, what with the way they can barely move and the classical music playing from George’s pocket. He has no idea what the piece is, but it at least fills the silence. 

It feels... nice, George decides, being close to Dream like this. It’s intimate—almost too much so for George’s fluttering heart—but it feels _right_ to be so close after so many years of being thousands of miles apart. 

“How was your flight, anyway?” George asks after a few moments. 

“It was alright. Tiring, though, I didn’t sleep at all.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” 

“It was worth it,” Dream says, so quietly that George can barely hear him over the music. 

“Yeah?” George can hardly find his voice either. 

“It’s always worth it, for you.”

“Oh,” George breathes, and feels Dream’s grip tighten ever so slightly on his waist. 

George remembers their conversation from a couple nights ago— how frustrated he felt, how angry Dream sounded. He remembers what Dream said about trust, about George being _different_. 

“Can I ask you a question?” George asks tentatively. He might be about to ruin the moment, but he needs to know. 

“Of course.”

“The other day, you said something about trust? What— what did you mean by that?”

Dream sighs. He doesn’t sound mad like before, just thinking, perhaps. 

“I trust you, okay George? More than anyone, I think. I think it’s more that I don’t trust myself. I don’t trust myself to show you what I look like because I feel like you’ll realize that I’m not who you think I am.” He pauses to breathe. “Sorry, that was a lot, wasn’t it?”

George is a little stunned, it takes him a few seconds to speak. “Dream, what? I know you, okay? I know that you’re kind and generous and stubborn. I know that you prefer the cold even though you live in Florida. I know that you wear socks to bed like some kind of heathen.”

Dream laughs at that. George’s chest tightens from how much he adores the sound. 

He can hear Dream’s shaky breath when he stops laughing and says, “I’m sorry George.”

“Sorry for what?”

“You deserve so much more.”

“You’re saying I don’t deserve you?”

“George...”

George moves a hand to the back of Dream’s neck. He can feel Dream’s pulse flaring under his skin as he tugs George in even closer, their bodies almost touching. George’s own heart is pounding out of his chest as he speaks, not even sure of what he's saying,

“Can I kiss you, Clay?”

Dream sounds so vulnerable, voice close to breaking when he says, “You don’t even know what I look like.”

_God_ if that doesn’t make George want to kiss him even more. He wants to show Dream how lovely he is, how worthy he is. Is this what George has been feeling these past months? Is this what’s been simmering under the surface all along?

“I like you for you, not your face, and I’ll keep liking you no matter what you look like,” George says, voice quiet to match Dream’s. “And if you never show me, that’s okay too.”

And it’s true. Of course George would like to see Dream’s face, of course it’s frustrating sometimes, but as he stands there, George realizes that it’s enough. It’s enough to be together like this. 

“Kiss me, Georgie.”

George leans up as Dream leans down. His mouth bumps into George’s nose at first and they’re both smiling when they finally lock lips. It’s slow, gentle, as Dream kisses him. Gentle lips, chapped from the cold, press against his. Gentle hands slide up his body to cup his face. It should feel surreal, but it’s comforting how well they fit together. 

George breaks the kiss eventually, feeling almost dizzy from being out of breath. He leans against Dream’s chest, Dream who apparently wasn’t expecting that and stumbles backwards. His back hits a wall, thankfully, and they both laugh. 

“So, you like me, huh?” Dream asks after a moment. 

“Is that really what you got out of my heartfelt speech?” George huffs. 

Dream chuckles, and George feels his chest rumble where his face is still pressed against it. 

“I love you George, I hope you know that.”

George stills, not sure how to respond. Dream continues before he has to, though,

“You don’t have to say it back. I just want you to know.”

George wants to say it back, so, so badly. He opens his mouth, tries to get the words out. Dream’s fingers are threading through his hair and he feels all warm and safe and he knows this is love. There’s no other word to describe how he feels and yet he can’t bring himself to say it. George presses his face further into Dream’s chest and hopes he understands. He must— he knows George just as much as George knows him. 

“George, turn on the light.”

George lifts his head, not sure if he heard correctly. “What?”

“Turn the stupid music off and turn on the light.”

George takes his phone out to pause the music with shaky hands. Silence blankets them for a few long seconds until it’s interrupted by George’s careful voice. 

“I... are you sure?”

“Yes, you idiot. Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do.”

George’s head is spinning as he feels around the wall where he knows the switch should be, flicking it on when he finally finds it. Even though the light is dimmed, it’s still blinding to George’s sensitive eyes after the complete darkness of before. He has to blink several times to let his eyes adjust.

When they do, he’s greeted with messy, dirty blond hair, muddy yellow eyes, and a crooked smile. Dream is gorgeous, of course, even with how tired he looks from travelling. His gaze is soft and caring despite the exhaustion etched into his under eyes. 

“Well?” Dream tilts his head.

George doesn’t know how to react. He’s imagined this moment hundreds of times and yet now that he’s here he has no idea what to say. Although, he usually pictured this happening over the internet where George would be shielded by a screen and the time to perfectly craft a text. 

So, he doesn’t say anything. He instead just pulls Dream into another hug, tight and filled with all the emotions he doesn’t know how else to express. Dream’s strong arms envelop George just as tightly, holding him so, so close. 

“You’re beautiful,” George manages to murmur against Dream’s neck. 

Dream hums. “Thank you Georgie.”

Dream’s voice seeps into him, warm and sweet, like hot caramel. It’s strange to suddenly be able to connect a face to the voice he’s been listening to for so many years. But it’s still Dream, George thinks, still the man he fell in love with through voice chats and shoulders-down photos. 

George is the one to pull away first so he can look at Dream again. He cups Dream’s face in his hands, brushing his thumbs over Dream’s cheeks, as if to convince himself he’s real. 

“I can’t believe you kissed me before you saw my face,” Dream teases, hands trailing back down to George’s hips. 

George feels himself blush, but can’t bring himself to look away even through his embarrassment. “Well, we could kiss again now,” he suggests shyly. 

Dream grins before leaning in and capturing George’s mouth again. George kisses him with more desperation this time, feeling almost giddy. Dream, however, keeps the pace slow, romantic. It’s sweet how much of a gentleman he really is. 

“You’ll stay the night, won’t you?” George asks against Dream’s lips. 

“Of course,” comes Dream’s reply. “I’d stay forever if I could, you know.”

“I know.”

George offers the guest bedroom but of course they both end up together in George’s bed. They don’t do anything that night besides enjoy one another’s company— Dream is far too jet lagged even if they wanted to. 

And George would never admit it, but he whispers three words like a secret between the cotton sheets. Dream kisses up his neck and to his lips, smiling, whispering back, and George is so, so content.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!  
> I'm planning to write more dnf in the future too, probably some nsfw stuff soon :)


End file.
